


Duo Queue

by engine



Category: Professional Overwatch RPF
Genre: Flirting, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22888936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engine/pseuds/engine
Summary: Johnny's behavior is escalating, and Scott's not sure what, exactly, it means.
Relationships: Custa | Scott Kennedy/Reinforce | Jonathan Larsson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Duo Queue

**Author's Note:**

> i have no excuse, they're so cute on watchpoint and plat chat, please do not show this to anyone involved in overwatch league ever or i will melt into the floor
> 
> enjoy!!!

“You’ve got, like,” Johnny started, cutting off to gesture vaguely at his own hair. They were on their way back to the green room after the pre-show, and Scott had a brief, frantic moment of panic that he did a whole segment with something on his face. Surely someone would have said something, though. Maybe not Johnny, who always seemed to enjoy when Scott fucked up on camera, but _someone. _

“What does that,” Scott mimicked the vague gesture, mockingly, “mean, exactly?”

Johnny made a face, the half-annoyed half-amused one that always made Scott laugh, and huffed out a sigh. “Your hair,” he said, still vague. They were outside the green room now, just around the corner from the door. Soe and Hex were already inside; Scott could hear Soe saying something about whatever craft services had available for snacks, but he wasn’t processing the details. Something about the look Johnny was giving him—

“What’s wrong with my hair?” He touched it, a little self conscious, but he couldn’t feel anything other than the copious amounts of styling gel. 

“Just—” Johnny started again, breaking off to look at the ceiling for a second before turning back to Scott. “This piece, right here.” He reached out and tugged at a strand that had fallen out of the gel, swooping across Scott’s forehead. The tips of his fingers brushed Scott’s skin, too warm. “It’s just distracting, that’s all.”

He didn’t move his hand away; Scott didn’t make him, either, for reasons he really didn’t feel like tackling midway through work. “Sorry?” he said instead of all the things his brain really wanted him to say, or do, trying not to think about everything he’d inevitably focus on later, when he went home and locked himself in his bedroom and absolutely avoided everyone else in the house. 

Johnny hummed, giving Scott a shrewd look. For a moment, Scott was sure Johnny would run his hands through Scott’s hair, here, at work, with only a door separating them from all their colleagues and the production team.

“You should be, I’m a professional and don’t need distractions while I work,” Johnny said, grinning, tugging on the strand once more before finally dropping his hand. “I can't give top tier analysis when you look that handsome, Custa.”

Scott just _knew _his ears were bright red, the traitors, and if they weren’t at work, Scott would’ve—done something. Punched him, probably. Maybe. Anything other than just stand there like a fucking idiot. 

“Hey, stop loitering like weirdos.” Soe’s voice broke through Scott’s daze as she poked her head back out the door, one eyebrow raised. “Game is on in like, seconds.” 

“Just telling Scotty his hair needs more gel,” Johnny said, sliding into the green room past Soe, hands innocently in his pockets, as if he hadn’t just—what? Flirted? As far as Scott could tell there wasn’t a better word for it, and he wanted to melt into the floor. At least Johnny had waited until they were alone. And off camera. Jesus. Scott felt like his face had to be giving everything away, but Soe didn’t say anything, and Hex didn’t either when Scott followed Johnny inside, just as the Florida-Houston match started up. 

“Custa does _not _need more gel in his hair, it’s not even moving anymore,” Soe said, attention already mostly on the game. “Both of you could do with _less _gel, honestly.”

“What!” Johnny said, all mock outrage as usual. “My hair looks _great_, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Scott could still feel Johnny’s fingers against his skin, the tug on his hair. Florida took the first capture point on Busan, handily crushing Houston despite the strange choice of Kris on Brigitte, but he hardly processed it. Every time he shifted, his hair brushed against his forehead, soft, teasing. Honestly, a part of him was grateful for Houston’s absolutely terrible play. At least it was a distraction when they went out during the game break and a stylist arrived with extra gel to fix his hair. It lingered in the back of his mind through the rest of the series, and even through the post show, where he did his best to behave like a normal human being, since Johnny seemed perfectly fine.

It was dark out when they left the studio, Hex first and then Soe; Johnny offered to give him a ride home, despite the horrendous LA traffic. He’d agreed, and only regretted it a little bit. Just a smidge. The parking garage was quiet, and the sound of Johnny’s keys jangling in his hand seemed louder than it should be. Now that they were alone, Scott didn’t have anything to stop his brain from reliving that moment, over and over. And if he was honest, there wasn’t anything else to talk about either. At least, that was the reasoning he’d stick to regarding his inability to keep his mouth shut.

“What the hell was that, Johnny?” Scott said, even as part of his brain yelled at him to pretend it didn’t happen. “You can’t just—_do _shit like that.”

Johnny spun his keys, one hand in his pocket, the slightest smile on his face. “Do shit like what?” he asked, as if he didn’t know, as if he hadn’t done it on purpose. “Use your words, Scott, I can’t read your mind.”

“I hate you _so _much,” Scott said, which just made Johnny laugh and bump their shoulders together, no help at all. Sighing, Scott grabbed the lapel of Johnny’s jacket, tugging him to a stop. Around them, the parking garage was silent, no one around to see but empty cars. Johnny raised his eyebrows, one corner of his mouth still curved up, waiting. “Seriously, are you just trying to—I don’t even know. Stress me out? Piss me off? Or…” He trailed off, feeling his face heat up, barely able to even put his thoughts into words. It seemed ridiculous now that he was trying to say it out loud, but every other explanation for Johnny’s behavior really just didn’t make sense.

“Come on, you can’t be that oblivious.” There was something behind the amusement in Johnny’s expression, a little nervous, that made Scott tighten his grip on Johnny’s jacket. He didn’t say anything else for a few seconds, as if waiting for Scott to interject, before continuing: “I’ve been flirting with you for weeks.”

“Have you?” Scott said, voice cracking. “You could’ve told me.”

Johnny hummed, wrapping his hand around Scott’s wrist where he still held on to Johnny’s jacket. “I could have,” he said, low and soft. “I was pretty obvious though.”

He was, in hindsight. “Well, I mean,” Scott cleared his throat, tugging on Johnny’s lapel to pull him closer, “you could be _more_ obvious.” 

“Oh, I could, huh?” Johnny was close enough now that Scott had to tilt his head up to keep eye contact. He heard the sharp jangle of keys as Johnny slid them into his pocket, but it was way less important than the way Johnny’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. “What did you have in mind?”

Scott pushed at his chest, half-hearted. “Why are you making this so difficult, you asshole, I think it’s _pretty_ obvious—” 

Johnny kissed him, finally, one big hand on Scott’s jaw, the other still holding his wrist. Scott tried not to smile and ruin it but only half succeeded, grabbing Johnny’s jacket with his other hand to pull him closer. 

“Are you laughing at me right now?” Johnny mumbled with mock annoyance, the same voice he used when making bad jokes on the desk. “I’m trying to kiss you and you’re laughing at me, I can’t believe this.” In the midst of his complaints, he brushed his thumb across Scott’s cheek, a gentle contrast to his teasing. “I know I’m hilarious, and handsome, and very tall, but this is serious, Scott, come on.”

“Shut _up_, oh my _god_,” Scott managed, trying not to laugh for real when there were more important things to be doing. “You just never stop talking, do you?”

“Part of my charm.” Johnny slid his hand back to tilt Scott’s head for a better angle and then they were kissing again, softer and sweeter than Scott would’ve imagined kissing Johnny would be. And he _had _imagined it, more than he’d wanted to admit. 

Somehow Johnny had maneuvered them against a car, and a door handle digging into his back dragged Scott back to the present. “If we set off this alarm,” Scott said, leaning back just far enough to give Johnny a raised eyebrow, “I’m kicking you in the shin and leaving you to deal with the cops.”

Johnny sighed. “It’s literally my car, can you chill out for like, one minute.”

“You’re the one who decided to pull this shit at work instead of literally any other time we were hanging out.” Still, he let go of Johnny’s jacket and grabbed his face to pull him in for another kiss.

Probably this was still a terrible idea even without the imminent threat of LAPD—they were technically still at work, and that wasn’t really a conversation Scott wanted to have just yet with any other coworkers—but Johnny slid a hand up the back of his shirt, just resting on his lower back, and honestly who could blame him for losing any sense of location. Somewhere between Johnny’s hands and mouth and tongue his sense of time slipped away too, and he wasn’t sure how much passed before someone on another level honked, startling them both.

“Maybe you were right about our choice of location,” Johnny said, slightly out of breath, his voice somehow even deeper in a distressingly pleasant way.

“If we didn’t have work tomorrow—” Scott started, cutting himself off, feeling the blush creep up his face again. 

“How lucky that we have the same days off.” Johnny grinned, slowly taking his hand out of Scott’s shirt. “You can do dinner though, right?”

Scott raised an eyebrow, still leaning against the car, and pretended to think about it for a moment. Johnny gave him a look that said he wasn’t fooling anyone, and Scott cracked, ducking his head with a smile. “Yes, fine, I can do dinner, I would love to go out to dinner with you, Johnny, as if we don’t already spend enough time together.”

Johnny ducked back in and gave him a quick, firm kiss, before finally stepping fully away. He was smiling one of his real smiles, not the smirks he usually had on camera, and Scott felt like something was going to burst in his chest. “You love it, though,” he said over the sound of his car unlocking.

“_God_,” Scott managed, rubbing his face, still beaming like an idiot. “For some fucking reason, I really do.”


End file.
